


When the Sun Went Down

by GingerGinny



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU universe, Almost AU, Angst, Canon Universe, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, F/M, Gen, Human Names, I'm not entirely sure how to do this, M/M, Magic, Other, The plot is incredibly slow the first few chapters I'm sorry, country names, something wicked this way comes - Freeform, supernatural themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-04-28 20:31:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5104772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerGinny/pseuds/GingerGinny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waking up in a diner on the wrong side of border he's supposed to be on, Matthew Williams can't find his way out of this lovely little town; or any sign of who he was before. Not to mention that static sound in his head.</p>
<p>Alfred F. Jones is stuck in between a hard place and a rock, not that he particularly minds being at a stand still. But it's getting more and more difficult to navigate life in a town roughly a mile wide, or remember what it's like to wake up without strange scratches. </p>
<p>"But knowing how we've all been tossing and turning these past few nights for fear of where our dreams are taking us, I'm not going to pretend that the man in the moon has our best interests at heart."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome, Matthew Williams.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! I originally posted this to fanfiction.net, and I'm still figuring out this site though so sorry for any mistakes. Enjoy! Also, the quotes in italics from this first chapter are from the TV show Northern Exposure.

It was brimming on 1:30 AM, and his shift wasn’t over for five and a half more hours. There was caked mud on the checkered floor tracked in by waiter's mucky converse, breaking up the black and white monotony, and tired customers who were sucked in by the diner's sleepy vibe. A very quiet, late-night radio show played in the background, someone droning on about the moon in a distracted voice.

_"But knowing how we've all been tossing and turning these past few nights for fear of where our dreams are taking us, I'm not going to pretend that the man in the moon has our best interests at heart._ " 

One of the customers in the diner was asleep, his forehead resting on the white tabletop and light blond hair blocking out his face, a soft snoring coming from his direction. He had a mostly-eaten stack of pancakes next to him, pushed aside to make room for his head on the tabletop. Occasionally a sniffle and a flip of one cheek to the other.

With his muddy converse squeaking against the kitchen mat, Alfred dangled a coffee pot in his hand as he held an old mug. He glanced at the blond customer who was grogily raising his head, now rubbing his eyes as the light above his table flickered. The bright red vinyl fussed as the customer leaned back and Alfred watched.

“Uh…Hey.” The blond muttered to the seat next to him. He was quiet, lips barely moving to talk to the spot between him and the window.

Alfred blinked and stared at him, nearly letting the coffee he was pouring spill over. He only noticed when the coffee stopped being poured into the mug and instead on his hands. Thank god he hadn't fixed the coffee maker yet to the point where the liquid was actually hot instead of lukewarm sludge.

“Dude? Can I get you something?" Alfred asked, leaning over the counter to try and get the guy’s attention, coffee mug in one hand, coffee pot in the other. When he didn’t get a reply he sighed, shoved the coffee pot back into the machine, and took the coffee to the only other customer; a hunched over man gnawing on an overcooked steak in a dark booth. "You okay?"

“Where, uh...Where am I?” The blond customer asked, covering his eyes with his hands and resting his elbows on the table. His voice was a whisper, but it almost echoed around the empty diner.

Walking over to the blond’s table with another cup of coffee in a faded mug that advertised a bait and tackle shop, Alfred set the mug down next to him. It received a tired look before the customer pulled it towards him.

“You’re in McClannin’s 24-hour diner, dude.” Alfred said, reaching up to unscrew the lightbulb from the lamp above. This customer had been in the diner from when Alfred started his shift at midnight, sleeping the whole time, and it was a safe assumption to guess this guy was either exhausted or hung over. At least, to Alfred it was.

“McClannin’s?” He muttered. “Vancouver? There isn’t a restaurant called that in Vancouver.”

“Hey, buddy, what’s your name?” Alfred asked, sitting down across from the guy. He produced a few creamer packets from his apron, dropping them next to the mug, and was met with unfocused eyes.

“...Matthew. Williams...I think...wait, yeah, no, Matthew Williams.” He replied, pushing his hair behind his ears to see better. He was thankful for the dimmed lights and made a mental note to tip the waiter when he was fully awake.

Taking a sip of his coffee, Matthew looked up at the guy across from him.

His eyes were like moonlight on water and freckles like stars, and Matthew became very aware of the coffee in his mouth. He looked like Matthew but more vibrant, like the difference between yellow and neon. Noting dirty glasses hanging around Alfred's shirt collar and chapped lips, Matthew sat up straighter. His own lips felt raw and stung with every sip.

“Well, Matthew, I’m Alfred. And uh, sorry to break it to you, but you’re not in Vancouver. Well, not Vancouver, Canada at least. Or Vancouver Island. You know what, never mind, you're not in Vancouver at all.”

Matthew jerked his mouth away from his mug like the coffee had burnt his lip, nearly thudding it against the tabletop.

“I’m not, not… where am I then?” He stuttered out, fully awake now and back to his normal, nervous self.

The stars shifted as Alfred smiled.

Matthew didn’t remember this place. He didn’t remember falling asleep in a questionable diner in an unknown place, drinking watery coffee across from a waiter who looked like he should be a high school senior. Where the hell was he?

“Sanooq, Washington State!” Matthew blinked in response. Under his fingertips he could feel the embossed logo of Max's Tackle and Bait in the mug.

“I’m Alfred, I just turned nineteen a month or two ago, and I live here! Well not, here-here, but I live close.” Alfred said eagerly, brightening up now that Matthew seemed more awake. "It's nice here, but it's not on any maps. How'd you get here?"

Alfred reached over and took one of the coffee creamers, peeling back the lid. He took a wary sip, stared down at the creamer, then scooped the others off the table and back into his apron. "Maybe don't drink those."

“Ok, well, I’m Matthew, nineteen, and I'm from Canada." Matthew blurted out, looking around the diner. He pulled the blind slits apart to look at the night outside."I was in Canada a few days ago, I think... I, um, I'm in the U.S.?"

Matthew sunk down into the booth and ran his hands through his hair, pulling the blond strands down across his eyes. He pulled at a dead skin strip on his lip and kneaded his hands into his sweatshirt.

"How did I get here?"

_"Put away your sharp utensils and stay close to your loves ones if you're lucky enough to have any. See ya in the morning, folks, or in the moonlight- whichever comes first."_


	2. Pop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm changing things around from the original story posting.
> 
> Also this chapter is SO short.

"So, wrong side of the border?" Alfred asked, now wiping down the table behind Matthew's. "Oh, gross."

Whoever had sat there last had left coffee stains and some kind of syrup drizzled all across the tabletop, the kind that made Alfred's dishrag stick. A toothpick wrapper was shoved in between the sugar packets next to a wadded-up napkin left in a glass, a film of milk swishing around in the bottom.

"I... I guess so..." Matthew replied, barely above a whisper. He was staring down into his coffee like it had all the answers, huddling the mug against his chest. "I can't remember what I was doing before."

"Huh. Sounds like you had a fun night."

The tabletop squeaked as Alfred applied elbow grease to a stubborn coffee stain. He was staring at the back of Matthew's head as he leaned against the table, going from vigorously scrubbing to barely wiping.

One piece of Matthew's hair was sticking straight up, and Alfred had the strong temptation to reach over and smooth it down.

Yellow light from the street filtered in through the window blinds, casting the Evergreens around them in a warm glow and striping across Matthew's face. The streetlamp flickered and moments later popped, the parking lot darkening as Alfred reached to pull the blinds shut.

"From Scotland."

The man in the other booth threw his fork down onto his plate, mouth full of slightly chewed steak and potatoes. A blue jacket hanging off his shoulders shook as he shifted around and moments later slipped off as he stabbed his knife into the tabletop.

"Excuse me?" Alfred asked, looking over at the man, wiping his glasses 'clean' with the dirty dishtowel.

"Scotland!" The man said louder, swallowing his food and nodding at Alfred. He took a chug of his soda, grimaced, and slammed it down.

"Hey, dude! Broken things come out of my paycheck!"

Alfred rushed across the room and snatched the now empty soda glass up, flipping it over to make sure that it was still in one piece.

"Woke up on a plane one night, halfway over the Atlantic." The man said, standing up and brushing himself off, ignoring Alfred. "My brother -one of them anyways- got me into an airport, got me drunk, headin' to New York. I think, not sure."

"Oh, I wanna go to New York one day. Did you spend a lot of time there?"

The guy grabbed his food and slid out of the booth, jerking his plate off the table. His food nearly slid away, a little red basket full of fries desperately clinging onto the plate. He grabbed his glass back from Alfred -"Hey!"- and shuffled over to the counter.

Alfred could get a good look of the man in the lights above the counter; A tall, lean man with dirty backpack slung around his shoulders. His hair was sticking out in greasy strands, the same rust color as his stubbly beard. A scar ran across his bridge and there was a rather obvious chunk of nose missing, like a nose piercing had been ripped out at some point.

He looked in need of a shower as he grabbed a fistful of napkins from the counter and ran a hand through his hair, slicking it back.

"Next few days or so 're a blur... ended up here anyway. Turns out, my brother found another one of my brothers hiding out here, livin' above some artists in town. Weird ones they are, funny accents."

A handful of fries was shoved into the guy's mouth as he snorted. "You're not the only one who just ended up here."

"Yeah?" Matthew whispered, turned slightly towards the man, who had now straddled a bar stool.

Alfred was sitting on the table's counter top, wide-eyed and listening attentively, dishtowel clutched in hand. His feet barely scraped the floor as he leaned back against his palms."What else?"

"Well, I got hungry, didn't feel like eatin' whatever my brother's had in store. My third brother showed up about, two hours ago, give or take. Which reminds me," He said, turning to look at Alfred, steak literally in his hand, "This steak, it's god awful."

"Sorry, bro, I'm a waiter, not a chef. Our short order cook left us after the boss man decreased his pay."

"Names' Allistor. Or Scottie, if I'm drunk enough." He paused. "Sorry, 'bout your chef and all."

Matthew spaced out, staring at Alfred distantly. His eyes were teary, seeming to stretch Alfred in his vision. The coffee in his stomach settled uneasily as he rest his head down on the table again and watched the florescent lights reflect off Allistors' hair.

"Whatever, dude was nuts anyways."

Matthew snored, and the voice on the radio lapsed into static.

\---------

It was now seven minutes until Alfred's shift was over, according to the old style clock above the counter. Alfred was busy picking at a band-aid that was stuck across his thumb, chewing on the brown cloth.

Allistor had left around two, mumbling about going to find something to drink. Alfred offered him water and more soda, but just got a slap on the back and a 'Nice try, Laddie' instead.

Alfred had noticed that he didn't leave a tip (or pay at all for that matter) and Alfred found himself cleaning in the darkest corners of the diner for enough money to scrounge up the cost of Scottie's meal. He wouldn't have enough out of pocket. Or out of savings. Just in general really, and this became more and more painstakingly obvious as he dragged himself around on all fours under tables and behind booths.

However, he did meet a cockroach, which he promptly named 'Seattle'.

Matthew was asleep again, fully slumped over in his booth now, a steady stream of drool coming out of his mouth and onto the seat. Somewhere during the early hours, in between money-searching and the sunrise, Alfred had laid his jacket down on top of him. An old-fashioned bomber jacket with an airplane patch and a large '0' on the back, rising and falling with Matthew's breathing. It had this sticky film on the backside, like sticker residue and loose stitches that never quite fit back in.

"Can I get you more coffee, sir?"

Now Alfred was patiently holding out a coffee pot out to a customer, a brown-haired man with papers lined out in front of him. He looked vexed, or at least he always did to Alfred, like he was going into an eight hour meeting, with his sunken eyes and bitten nails.

"N-no, thank you though." He replied. His eyes swept up and down Alfred's appearance, hovering over band-aids. "Alfred, are you- no, thank you, I don't need any creamer- are you eating enough?"

This was why Alfred always wore his jacket. Without it, every t-shirt he wore looked like it was grasping for dear life on his shoulders, his ribs visible under the soft material.

"Me? Ha, yeah man! Don't worry about me, Mr. Laurinaitis. I'm good." Alfred joked, smiling as he swiped some crumbs off the counter.

"Well, you can always stay with me and Felixs again, alright? We worry about you getting enough food."

"Thanks, Mr.Lauinaitis, But really," Alfred smiled. "I'm all good."

"If you say so. Who is he?" Mr. Laurinaitis asked, glancing at Matthew over in his own booth, having just let out a particularly large snort and shifted around.

"Some Canadian kid. My age, he rolled in here last night. Named Matthew."

\---------------------------------------------------------

_"Al, please, I don't think-"_

_"Calm down, Broseph, this is a great plan. Just pour the maple syrup directly onto the waffle iron, okay?"_

\-----------------------------------------------------------


	3. Polaroid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I update whenever I have time to write. Also, the plot moves slow as crap.

A clicking sound was what finally woke Matthew up. Dazedly, Matthew raised his head and bumped it against the bottom side of the table.

"What are you-" Matthew started, interrupted by a groan from Alfred.

"Dude! You ruined the shot!" Alfred whined, sliding back into his seat. He pouted and spun around to face Matthew. "Now you're gonna be all blurry."

Matthew sat up and wiped the drool from his mouth, blinking at the smiling blond across from him. An array of Polaroid photos were spread out in front of Alfred, various pictures of Alfred smiling and Matthew sleeping.

"Look!" Alfred said, pushing one of the photos up to Matthew's face. It was nothing but a mush of colors, something akin to a Rorschach test. "I took this one earlier, but we came out warped. I guess it was because this film was old, or somethin'."

"Eh? yeah, maybe." Matthew pushed the photo away and covered his eyes. "What time is it?"

"'Bout Seven-thirty. I got off shift half an hour ago." Alfred said, crumpling the photo and stretching out in the booth.

"Who's that?" Matthew asked quietly, looking around the diner and seeing Toris sitting at the counter.

Toris looked up for a brief moment and glanced from Matthew to Alfred.

"Ah, that's Mr.Laurinaitis. He works in town hall, I'm not sure what." Alfred said, pausing as he watched Toris reach over the counter and grab the coffee pot.

"He took care of me for a while. I really like him, they give me a lot of clothes."

"They?" Matthew asked. He pulled Alfred's coat off his shoulders and folded it on the table.

"Oh, thanks, sorry. Didn't want you to be cold." Alfred yawned. "Toris and his husband, Felixs. They've been together for, Hell, I dunno. Felix is pretty cool! Happy guy."

* * *

 

_"I told you it wouldn't work, Alfie."_

 

* * *

 

Alfred held the door open for Matthew, jacket slung over his elbow.

The weather outside was cold and foggy, the sky overcast as a slight mist fell. Alfred leaned back against the open door and let his head fall back, closing his eyes to the dull light.

The waitress meant to cover the morning shift finally arrived, half an hour late as usual according to Alfred. An old Volkswagon Bug swerved into the tiny parking lot, birds scattering every which way.

"It's really not her fault." He said lazily as she kicked her car door shut, jamming a green headband on.

She was a short girl with frizzy blonde hair, her apron tied crookedly as she half-jogged to the door. She smelled like vanilla, something sweet that Matthew caught a whiff of as she went by.

"Sorry I'm late!" She said as she pushed through the door, smiling at Alfred. "Toris! Freshen your coffee?"

Alfred waved goodbye and let the door swing shut behind them as he pulled his keys out.

"Is this your car?" Matthew asked, standing in front of a rather nice looking car, a freshly washed one with a pink heart dangling from the rear-view mirror.

"Nope! This is!" Alfred said, patting the hood of an old orange pick-up to Matthew's right.

The truck was, in Matthew's sugarcoated opinion, a piece of crap. It had been T-boned at one point, a huge dent in the side of the truck bed and wheel well. Rust easily flaked off into Matthew's hand when he squatted down and scratched at it.

"It's in bad shape." Matthew said with a weak smile.

"Yeah, It's not pretty." Alfred laid a hand on the driver's side door. The door squeaked when he opened it."She's my baby. I fixed her up myself. Want a ride?"

Matthew stood up and rubbed his hands off on his jeans.

"A ride?"

"Yeah, to like, a hotel or something? I mean, I think there's only one, but there's a rentable lodge if you want." Alfred explained as he slid into the driver's side seat. He looked at Matthew through the window and smiled, slamming his door. "Unless you want to walk but, we're like, three miles out from town."

"Sure, I guess." Matthew said as he held his door open. _I've got no money though,_ lingered on the tip of his tongue.

He watched Alfred fuss with the keys, making brief eye contact with him. "I don't, uh, have any-"

"Right." Alfred sighed. The keys stopped jingling as Alfred went to knead the steering wheel. "We'll figure something out. I gotta stop by my house really quick though, change out of my uniform and all."

Matthew stood nervously next to the passenger side door before hoisting himself inside and slamming the door behind him.

* * *

 

Matthew was holding onto the panic handle for dear life, knees up against the dash as he peeked out from under his free hand. Alfred seemed to have no respect for rules of the road- or even a need for a road if the last mile and a half told Matthew anything.

As an old Smith's song blasted from the trucks worn-out cassette player, Alfred drove the truck down a marshy road so dense with trees and plants that Matthew didn't even see it at first. He'd just assumed it was some off-the-path hiking trail until Alfred violently jerked the truck off the road like it was a glorified ATV.

Broken glass under the tires, old rusted metal things littering the side of the road, and an old broken gate couldn't stop Alfred's truck from barreling down the trail. Not even a ripped 'No Trespassing sign' that fluttered as Alfred drove past. The sudden drops around them as the road gave out on either side only made Matthew want to pee himself out of fear.

"Now I live on the second story," Alfred explained as he tore down the road. Matthew caught a glance of an abandoned washing machine in one of the creeks far below off the road-side. "And I'll only be a few moments, just gotta grab my shirt and stuff, you know?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. Ok." Matthew agreed, eyes shut tight as the road swerved.

It felt like an eternity until the truck was on gravel and Matthew finally relaxed. He let go of his grip on the handle and quickly switched to holding onto the door handle, ready to jump out and roll if needed. Which honestly he hoped he wouldn't, there seemed to be a large amount of broken glass on the ground.

Alfred parked in front of a house, one with chipped white paint and a worn looking outside staircase. One set of stairs led to the first floor porch, where a screen door was hanging open and mud-splattered boots were littered. A few guns were stacked in the porch corner under a tattered plaid blanket, stuffed behind a yellowed porch swing. The top part of the house looked like a small attic at most, the outside staircase folding up to the door.

"Wanna come up with me?" Alfred asked Matthew as he pulled the keys from the ignition. Before Matthew had a chance to answer, Alfred hopped out and slammed the door shut behind him, marching towards the front porch through the mud.

"Sure..." Matthew sighed as he wrestled with his seatbelt. "Sounds great."

Matthew stepped out of the truck and directly into a large mud puddle, gently shutting the door behind him. Glancing back towards the house, Matthew saw someone in the first story part of the house peeking out from the screen door, a little kid.

Matthew waved just as the kid stuck his tongue out at him, but waved at Alfred. Alfred smiled back and stomped up the stairs.

"Alfred? Alfred!" Someone called from behind the screen door. Alfred stopped in his tracks halfway up the staircase. "Is that you? Peter, get back to your homework."

"Hey, Tino!" Alfred replied, hanging onto a staircase rail as he leaned back.

A man stepped out onto the porch and smiled up at Alfred, brushing off his pants. He was covered in what Matthew assumed was flour and had a cheesy apron tied around his waist with the words 'World's Okayest Mom' stitched in the front. The kid clung to the back of the man's shirt and stared at Matthew, making dirty faces at him.

"How are you today Alfred? I made some -Peter, put that back, that's not yours- cookies! Would you like to come in?" Tino asked, shutting the screen door as he pushed the kid back into the house.

"Oh, no thanks, but thank you for the offer! Hey, Tino, meet Matthew!" Alfred said, gesturing to the gangly Canadian, who was trying to get his coat unstuck from the car door.

Matthew felt stupid as he waved again.

"...Oh, hello!" Tino said, straightening up as he looked at Matthew.

Tino smiled at him then turned back to Alfred. Tino looked like a happy guy to Matthew, was that his son in there?

"H-Hi, I'm Matthew." Matthew started as he got his coat unstuck, stumbling backwards. "I'm new here, I just-"

A loud beeping sound from inside of the house cut Matthew off and the kid stuck his head out the door to look at Tino. He had flour plastered to the side of his face.

"Dad, I-"

"Peter!" Tino yelled as he threw open the screen door and ran inside. "What did I just say? I just told you not to touch that, didn't I? What were the words that literally just came out of my mouth?"

Alfred signaled Matthew to come up the stairs. "Just go right on in."

Matthew followed suit and headed up the porch steps two at a time, careful to avoid the many pairs of boots. There were... a lot of boots. Boots that were mud-splattered, some without matching pairs, all in different sizes covering the first few steps up.

The stairs up to the second story seemed tired, like they had been walked up thousands of times and were just only holding on. Matthew passed by Alfred, who gave him a quick, beaming smile. By the time Matthew had gotten to Alfred's door, Tino was talking to Alfred through the screen door.

"Alfred, are you sure you're okay?" Matthew heard Tino say, the loud beeping no longer.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Tino."

"What happened to your thumb?"

Matthew hovered in front of Alfred's front door, hand on the knob. He hoped Alfred couldn't see him eavesdropping from the stairs. He noted that Alfred's door was unlocked and easily opened when Matthew leaned on it, the sudden give making Matthew trip over his own feet.

"Are you sure you don't want any cookies? Or anything else? I mean, we've got plenty of food and things if you need them and-"

"I'm fine! You guys just look after yourselves all right? How is Peter doing in school?"

"He's doing great! Alfred, just..." Tino paused and Matthew slipped inside of Alfred's house, pressing his ear to the crack in between the door and the wall. He stepped on something as he did, a pencil that he kicked behind him.

Whatever Tino said, Matthew missed it. Alfred must have nodded in response or something, because the only thing Matthew heard after that was the creaking of the stairs as Alfred walked up them, exactly the same sounds they made when Matthew walked up them. Matthew flipped around and for the first time, actually saw the inside of Alfred's house.

It wasn't a house.

It was a room.

A tiny room, with a tiny but long bed in the corner laden with patchwork blankets, crocheted quilts, and old flowery pillowcases. The bed was shoved up under a window with tiny nick-nacks on the windowsill; a toy soldier, a notepad, and a little alien action figure. Comic books were stacked all around the room, on top of the tv and all around it, on bookcases, in bookcases, and on top of the small wardrobe shoved in the corner.

A blanket had been tacked up to cover some of the window, draping down onto a box full of movie cases. A quick glance at the closet revealed only a few pair of pants and T-shirts, and next to that an open box of Band-aids spilt out on top of a rickety dresser.

"Yeah, nice, ain't it?"

Matthew turned to come face to face with Alfred, who was leaning against the door frame, a half-cocked smile on his face.

"Comics. Lots of, uh, comics." Matthew stuttered out, shoving his fists in his pockets.

"Yeah! I love superheroes, do you?" Alfred said, walking past Matthew and throwing his coat down on the bed. "My fave is Captain America."

"Superheroes? Never really thought of them much to be honest."

"No? Dude, you missed out. What did you do as a kid?" Alfred asked as he took a giant step over a comic stack to get to the wardrobe. "I get them for free from the library."

Matthew didn't reply. He couldn't remember what he enjoyed doing. He couldn't remember being a kid, like it was an entire lifetime ago.

"Don't know." Matthew replied, picking up a comic off the bookshelf.

"Nah? That's okay, I don't remember anything either. I can tell you all about the Back to the Future series, but nothing on what I liked as a kid." Alfred said, muffled as he pulled his shirt off and threw it to the side.

"So, you get these comics for free? Is that why you have so many of them?" Matthew asked as he watched Alfred rifle through his clothes. Alfred didn't seem to have much body fat or built up muscle, just like Matthew himself.

"Yeah. Plus they work as kindling pretty well."

As Alfred finally grabbed a shirt, Matthew got a closer look at the things on the windowsill. He picked up the little toy soldier, a blue coat with a little paint splash of blonde hair. There was a chip in part of the little gun the soldier was holding, like the wood had been splintered.

"Found that on the ground one day. Don't know where it came from, but it seemed pretty cool." Alfred said, stepping back over the comics to Matthew. "I don't really like it, it gives me a creepy feeling."

"Huh." Matthew put it back on the windowsill. "Looks like you."

"Yeah, it's just great." Alfred said bitterly. "I don't know who it belongs to though."

"When did you find it? I haven't seen a kid play with one of these in, well, ever." Matthew asked, facing Alfred. "Nice shirt."

"Don't know, just remember picking it up. And hey, thanks!" Alfred said, pulling the shirt down so Matthew could see it better. The shirt was old and holey with a few grease stains, a little logo in the upper left corner with the words 'Sanooq Fire Department' on it. "It's not mine though, just a hand-me-down. Donation. Whatever. Hey, did you like Tino?"

Launching himself down onto his bed, Alfred looked up at Matthew and patted the space next to him on the bed. Matthew looked around awkwardly for a chair before sitting down on Alfred's bed.

"Tino? The guy downstairs? Yeah, he seemed nice, I guess. The kid seems like a charmer." Matthew said as Alfred scooted back and leaned against the wirey bed frame, sitting cross-legged.

"Oh, yeah, Peter. He really is a nice kid but kinda pushy. Don't worry, bro, he's like that with everyone. He's fun to play videogames with, he goes hard as crap in Mario Kart." Alfred paused. He looked distant for a moment before his smile bounced back. "That whole family does."

"Whole family? It's not just Tino and Peter?" Matthew asked, flipping through a comic with his hands but looking at Alfred.

"Nah. Well, it's those two and Berwald, he and Tino are together, like together. Mathias, Lukas, and Emil. Lukas and Emil are blood related, I think." Alfred explained as he pulled aside the blanket curtain and glanced outside. The question about how Peter fit into the family hovered on the top of Matthew's tongue, but didn't move forward.

"Big family, eh?"

"Yeah. Must be nice."

Both of them grew quiet and Alfred drummed his fingers against his knee.

"Hey, can I see this hotel you were talking about?"

"Totally! I think you'll like it, let's go!" Alfred said eagerly, hopping up from the bed, leaving Matthew to flounder in the sudden loss of structure.

Matthew got up after managing to roll onto his feet and followed Alfred out, leaving a comic in his wake.

* * *

 

_"Whatever."_

_"At least you didn't burn the house down? I'll go grab some some towels."_

 


	4. Striped Carnations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally something gets done. Also, I'm uploading this on my phone so if it's weirdly formatted, I apologize.

"Big brother? We're out of shaving cream again."

"I'll add it to the ordering list. Thank you, Lily."

Outside the quiet store, Sanooq's main and only street was dead empty. A breeze whisked through the open store door and bothered the delicate bell hanging off the door frame, garnering only a quick look from the petite blonde girl.

Inside, Vash counted out the morning till in quick movements. Small bills flitted under his fingertips into clean, neat stacks on a counter laden with peeling tape and out-of-date food labels.

"Big brother?"

A grunt in response.

"Are we ever going to get a bigger store?"

If Vash moved a fraction of an inch slower, Lily didn't notice. He didn’t even look up when the bell rang again, and the papers around the store fluttered with the breeze.

"We don't need a bigger store. Please grab more of the Saltines from the basement."

"Yes, big brother."

As Lily stood up and walked to the back of the shop, Vash gathered the money up and placed it in the register, leaving a single $10 bill out. This one he dropped into a large glass jar under the counter labeled "Store Fund" in black sharpie, a new addition to the already thick layer of money in the jar.  

He looked out the store windows to Main Street, hands folding down loose corners of tape on the counter. The clouds looked like grey silk in the muggy weather, and Vash had a craving for tea.

"Here you go, big brother!" Lily chirped as she came up the stairs, boxes of Saltines clutched under her arms. Vash rushed over and grabbed them from her, leaving Lily with empty hands as she drifted to the front of the store.

This time, Lily looked out the store windows, dusting her dress off. Delicate flowers bobbed in the wind, beautiful Striped Carnations in the flower boxes and flower bushes littered across the street.

"Oh, Alfred got off work already..." Lily said as Alfred's truck tore down mainstreet, a terrified Matthew in the passenger seat. “He’s driving much too fast, I think.”

"Hmm." Vash hummed.

"Big brother?" Lily asked, turning towards him. Her eyes still drawn to the window.

"Yes, Lily?"

"...Nothing." 

* * *

 

 Alfred's truck slowed to a stop in front of the only intersection Matthew had seen in the whole town. Only one light hung above them, a blissful red color.

"That's the store over there, I usually get everything from there. Lily is really nice! Vash is... well, he makes a good deal."

"I-I see... how many people live in this town?" Matthew asked nervously, clutching the panic handle, again, for dear life.

"Not more than 200, that's all I know. I know everyone here pretty much, you and Scottie are the first new people I've seen here in awhile!" Alfred said, relaxing at the intersection's red light. He yawned and rested his elbow on the open driver’s side window.

"Small town, eh?" Matthew commented as Alfred drove forward again, past the intersection and into a parking space. The engine turned off beneath them as Matthew released his death grip, legs relaxing from their braced position.

"What's this place?"

Alfred had pulled them up to a tall building, picturesque with logs on the outside walls and a cheery, far too early winter scene painted on the inside of the windows. A sign on the door said ‘Vacant’ in loopy yellow letters, painted purple flowers circling the word.

"A place you can stay! It's run by these sisters." Alfred explained, stepping out of the truck. "C'mon!" 

* * *

 

_"Mattie? What the hell are you doing in here?”_

 

_“Al, you kept this stuff?”_

 

* * *

 

"Hello, Alfred!"

Matthew had followed Alfred into the hotel, only to be ignored by a short woman whose hair looked like she lost a fight with a pair of scissors. It was short and grey, clipped up with bobby pins, somehow fitting her look of cut-off overalls.

The inside of the hotel seemed ancient, decorated with fake flowers and a 'Clean Linen' scented candle that was the focal point of the front desk. The rug looked expensive, but that was the only thing that Matthew though looked like it wasn't bought at a discount store or in the 80's.

"Hey, Irina!” Alfred asked, leaning over the desk to talk to her. “How’s it going, sweetheart?”

Irina blushed and fidgeted with a buckle on her overalls.

"G-good! We're still a bit money strapped but..." Irina turned away from the quickly and sneezed into her elbow. "Excuse me! Anyways, how can I h-help you, Alfred?"

"Oh, don't worry I'll be gone in a minute, he won't even know I was here." Alfred looked at Matthew and smiled. "I'm looking for a room for him to stay in, do you have any available?"

"Of course! We... always do." Irina said, voice wavering. She leaned forward and looked at  Matthew, then Alfred. "Can you pay for one?"

"Oh, I hadn't even thought of that... um.. no, I don't think I can." Alfred said quietly. "I don't get paid until Friday."

Irina hesitated before smiling. "Well... come back in a few days, okay? Listen, I'll give you a deal, one night's worth of pay and he can for three, alright?"

"Sure, that sounds great!" Alfred replied. He turned to Matthew, who was kicking at a spot on the carpet. "Sorry, bro. Do you mind bunking with me for a night?"

"Well, I don't really have a choice, do I?" Matthew said. Alfred beamed at him before turning back to Irina again.

"Is your sister here? She left this at the diner." Alfred asked, pulling a small blade out of his jacket pocket. “I cleaned it off for her, but she did take a good chunk of skin off.”

"Yeah, she should be in the back room, end of the hallway."

"Cool! Thanks." Alfred said, pushing himself away from the front desk and turning to go down the hallway, stopping when he passed Matthew. "Hey, can you chill here for a moment?"

"No, the hospital just paged me for a heart transplant." Matthew responded. When Alfred just looked confused, Matthew added; “Yeah, I’ll just stay here.”

Alfred left, going down the hallway, leaving Matthew alone.

"Do you guys have a- oh." Matthew had turned to ask Irina where the bathroom was, but no one was behind the back desk anymore. "Guess not."

Matthew walked up to the desk and peeked over the edge. All that was there was an old 1998 edition of Home & Garden magazine with festive Sunflowers on the cover, a mug full of random pens, and a sticky note with the words 'Carrots' and 'Milk' listed on it. The same loopy handwriting, Matthew noted, that made up the Vacant sign.

"Is there... no one else here?” Matthew asked the empty room as he turned back towards the front door. “At all?”

Through the window Matthew could see a couple sitting on an old picnic table. The table was surrounded by Rhododendron bushes and grass, in what looked like an otherwise empty lot. But, even though the weather was still misty and grey, the couple seemed to be enjoying themselves.

The woman, who was sitting with her back to the table and her arms spread out to the sides, had on a large-brimmed sun-hat and was laughing about something. Her head was thrown back in laughter, one hand holding her hat on to her head, light brown hair tumbling out from underneath.

Next to her was a man, paler than the moon itself, wearing an old t-shirt and baggy shorts. He was sitting similarly to the woman, his legs crossed up on the bench and ice cream cone in hand. He watching the woman laugh, smiling himself.

They looked happy, and Matthew felt an empty pang in his chest.

Had he once been happy like that too?

"Matthew?"

"Hey, Alfred." Matthew asked, turning back to face him.

"Sorry about that, dude." Alfred yawned as he pronounced the word 'Sorry', making it sound stretched out and disconnected. "I'm freaking tired, bro. How you holding up?"

Matthew shrugged at him.

"Want to go get somethin' to eat? There's a bar not too far down from here, they let people under twenty-one in and they make a pretty wicked burger."

"Not really..." Matthew answered quietly, looking down at his feet.

"Well, we should probably get out of here if I can't get you a room. Wanna try to find you a bus schedule?"

"A bus schedule?" Matthew asked quizzically, looking back up.

"Yeah! So you can get back to Canada and all?"

"Oh, right. Maybe later, eh?"

Matthew watched as Alfred ducked down to tie his shoelaces. He was wearing an old pair of red converses, holey and muddy. Matthew didn’t remember seeing any other shoes in Alfred’s room.

"You know, I think an ice cream would actually be kinda nice right now?" Matthew said, lending Alfred a hand to stand up.

Alfred smiled, and grabbed Matthew’s hand.

"Sounds great, bro!" Alfred replied as he walked past Matthew, holding the door open for him. "You said it was your 19th birthday a few days ago? Mine too! We can get some ice cream as like, a birthday celebration! Did ya’ get anything cool?"

Honestly, Matthew couldn’t remember. He opted for a head shake instead. "Did you?"

"Yeah! Tino and his family gave me this really cool hunting knife and threw me a party downstairs, it was bitchin', dude. Mr.Bonnefoy sent me a cake, and man that thing was good. He's the one that runs the bakery shop, along with Mathias. C'mon, we can walk there!"

 

* * *

 

Matthew was sitting at a small, round, delicate looking table across from Alfred, holding an ice cone with a chocolate-vanilla swirl. Soft music played in the background, and the air smelled like sickly-sweet sugar in the shop, adding to the warm atmosphere. The walls were a light pink color, and Matthew like the color contrast between them and Alfred’s dark shirt.

"And then, right after Captain America deflected the blast with his shield, he charged the guy," Alfred was rambling, arms waving as he went on to explain the heroics of Captain America. "And boom, the day was saved! Pretty awesome, right?"

Matthew nodded and took another lick of his ice cream, not stopping the over-excited blond. Alfred's eyes were bright and he had a smile bigger than the sun, and Matthew noticed how he didn't seem tired anymore, like it was more important to talk about comics then sleep.

"Do you mind if I join you two?"

 Mr. Bonnefoy stood next to the table, an extra chair in hand. He looked down at the Alfred and commented that he was getting ice cream on the table before looking at Matthew, catching his eye.

"Sure!" Alfred said, scooting over so there was extra room.

Matthew stared at Mr. Bonnefoy. Something in him flittered, like a knot tied itself in his stomach.

"Mathieu, yes?" Mr.Bonnefoy said, a french accent in his words.  "I'm Francis."

"Nice to meet you, Francis." Matthew said quietly, quickly looking back down at his ice cream.

"So, Alfred, how is your job at that lovely establishment," Francis sounded like he biting his tongue, "Going?"

"The diner?" Alfred replied, oblivious. "Great! Still haven't gotten paid for this week but it's cool. I'll talk to bossman about it soon. How's business here?"

Francis sighed. "Fine. I'd be better if Mathias didn't insist on 'testing' everything we made, but..."  Francis went on to talk for a few minutes, resting his head on his hands.

Matthew was in a world of his own, fueled by the knot in his stomach. His arms were light and faintly tingly, but his stomach was heavy like a rock. The back of his head sounded and felt like someone chattering, a soft buzz like opening a fizzy soda.

"Do you guys have a bathroom?" Matthew blurted out, jarring Francis and Alfred.

"Yes, here just," Francis said, looking startled. He pulled a key out of his apron pocket and handed it to Matthew with concern. "Lock the door when you're done."

Abandoning his bowl and spoon, Matthew shoved away from the table, and quickly shuffled to the bathroom door.

"I don't know, dude, maybe it was the ice cream?"

Matthew fumbled with the lock at first, finally pushing the door open to the dark bathroom. Running his hand over the wall, he found a lightswitch and shut the door behind him, letting a deep breath out.

He didn't realize he had been holding his breath since Francis had sat down with them, a tightening feeling in his chest. Turning and leaning against the door for support, Matthew sunk down to the floor and ran a hand through his hair.

"What was that?" Matthew asked the room. It didn’t reply.

Matthew helped himself up and walked over to the sink, turning the cold water on. He ran it through his fingers until finally splashing the water on his face, rubbing it off with his shirt sleeve. He looked at himself in the mirror and smiled, a naturally-nervous smile that seemed to falter under his own eyes.

"Alright, c'mon Matthew, you can do this." He said, turning the water off and wiping his hands on his pants.

As Matthew pulled the key out of the bathroom door lock, he could hear Alfred laughing about something Francis had just said, right out of earshot.  He sighed as the chatter was gone, and all he heard was the remnants of laughter.

Alfred didn't have a laugh that took up the whole room but instead a quiet one, his face hidden behind the back of his hand as his whole torso shook silently. A snorting sound and tears in his eyes, a small smile like Matthew's hidden behind his jacket sleeve.

"Hey, Matthew, you okay, dude?" Alfred asked as Matthew sat back down at his chair.  

"Yeah, sorry. Emergancy, you know." Matthew said, brushing Alfred's question off and looking between the two.  

This time, when Matthew looked at Francis he didn't feel the knot.

For the first few minutes he just listened to Alfred and Francis chat, waiting until he worked up the nerve to join in the conversation and stirring his ice cream into soup. Once he did, the conversation completely switched to French and Alfred looked confused, but then took the opportunity to steal  Matthew's ice cream.

Alfred laughed when Matthew grabbed it back from him, an Alfred-sized bite taken out of it. “Ew, Pistachio!"  

It was nice to be near Francis, to listen to Alfred laugh. Matthew felt like he had been here his whole life, the feeling of being so at home accompanied by the sound of Francis' velvet voice and Alfred's hair shimmering gold under the lights above them. When Francis reached over and tucked Matthew's hair behind his ear or when Matthew licked a napkin and swiped some crumbs off of Alfred's cheek.

For a few moments he hoped that maybe Alfred would forget about the bus schedule for a few days, so Matthew could spend some more time with the two of them. But somewhere below, the knot stirred at that idea. 

* * *

 

_"Al, are you sure you want to do this?"_

 

_"I don’t know. Promise you’ll come with?"_

 

* * *

 

Half of the blankets off of Alfred's bed were on the floor, folded together with comics and things having been pushed aside to make room. They were lumpy and mismatched, just the way Alfred liked it.

"Do you wanna turn a movie on to fall asleep to?" Alfred asked from the floor, laying ontop of the blankets in a pair of old sweatpants decorated in small cartoon bears.  

"Sure, if you want.”  Matthew replied from on top of the bed, sleeping in his T-shirt and a pair of borrowed pants. “I’m okay with just the sound of the rain though.”

Almost on cue, a strong wave of wind and rain rattled the window.

After they had gotten ice cream, talked with Francis, and the weather had stopped misting and started raining, the duo drove back to Alfred's house. Matthew had suggested Alfred take a nap after the ice cream was done and get some sleep since he couldn't stop yawning, and Alfred seemed more than happy to go along with it.

"Do you like 'Secondhand Lions'?" Alfred asked, pawing through a stack of movies next to the tv.

"I've never seen it."

"Really? Dude, we're so watching it!" Alfred said, prying the case open and pulling out the DVD. "The controller is next to you, will you press play?"

"Eh? Oh, yeah." Matthew said, reaching for the controller as Alfred flopped back down on his make-shift blanket bed.

"Thanks, bro."

Only a few minutes into the movie did Alfred fall asleep, rhythmically snoring and spread-eagle on the floor. He muttered something in his sleep and Matthew saw him swat at his face. Clearly not the most graceful of sleepers.

Matthew rolled over and pulled the blankets up around his neck, watching the raindrops roll down the window and the trees outside blow around. About halfway through the movie he fell asleep too, curled up in the upper left part of Alfred's bed.

* * *

Matthew woke up to muffled yelling and Alfred's chainsaw-like snoring.

"No!" Someone shouted from the floor below, their voice resounding upwards into Alfred's room. "You can’t tell me what to do!"

Matthew struggled to prop himself up on his elbows on the lumpy mattress as his eyes adjusted to the dark. All that lit up the room was the TV, the movie's title menu taking up the screen and flashing repeating movie clips. Matthew squinted around the room and then down at Alfred, who was stretched out on the floor asleep still, his features highlighted by the TV screen.

Downstairs the screen door on the front porch slammed open, smashing into the side of the house and echoing into the trees around them. There was stomping out on the front porch moments later, more than one pair of feet.

"Emil!" Someone shouted from outside. "EMIL!"

Matthew flopped back down, sticking his hand out towards the dresser and blindly searching for the TV controller, pressing play so that the movie would hopefully drown out the noise.

It didn't.

The yelling from downstairs went on, more people moving around downstairs and on the porch, slamming doors and shouting. At one point Matthew heard an engine start. For a while Alfred's snoring was the only thing able to block out the noise, uneven and familiar. 

* * *

 

_"Of course I’ll come with you, Al. Alfie.”_

 

_“No, no, not Alfie. That name better not stick around.”_

 

_“Alfie, Alfie, mwah!”_

 

_“C’mon Kuma, knock it off!”_

 

* * *

 

"Just, just take this with you. For your own protection." Vash said, holding a pocket knife out to Lily.

Lily straightened up and rocked back on her heels, her light green windbreaker swishing as the fabric rubbed together.

"Big brother, I'm just going for a walk. Do you really think I'd need something like that?" She asked nervously, delicately touching the pocketknife with her fingertips. Vash's free hand closed on top of her own, pushing the closed pocket knife into her palm.

"Just in case, okay?" Vash said, his voice soft.

Lily looked up at Vash's face, her eyes meeting his. It wasn't often that she saw her big brother worried, and seeing him like this made her feel nauseous, a feeling of vertigo washing over her. She felt cold and faint when big brother looked like this, like she’d clearly done something to worry him.

"Thank you, big brother." Lily said, quickly looking away and taking the knife, sliding it into her pocket. "I won't be gone long, just a short walk."

Vash looked out the storefront and placed both hands palm-down on the counter. "Do you want to take an umbrella?"

"...No, I should be okay. It's only a little fog." Lily said, smiling at his turned face weakly.

Vash looked back at Lily and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, lingering like he was taking her temperature. For a few moments Lily wondered if he was trying to see if she had a fever, so he'd have an excuse for her not to go out alone. But Vash pulled back and returned to his work behind the counter, order forms in hand only seconds later.

Lily made her way outside through the back of the shop after saying goodbye one last time, locking the door behind her, walking through her big brother's garden. Flowers had sprung up in little rows in between the vegetable patches and in separate beds. They popped up alongside the cobblestone path, the one Vash had put in after Lily had twisted her ankle running around her favorite flowers, the little white ones that grew in bunches. How old had she been? The flowers smelled sweet and perfumed, like soft summer mornings and fresh fruit.

She was careful to hold her dress up and over the mud, avoiding the patches of Alyssum the sprang up and grew over the cobbles. The air smelled fresh with the fog and heavier than normal, like a cold blanket was wrapped around her shoulders. The grey made everything look like a dreamland, flowers and trees breaking the monotony.

The pocket knife seemed heavier in Lily's pocket now than it did when Vash gave it to her, and she could feel it bounce around in her dress pocket the entire way to the entrance of the woods. Even as she got away from the jagged cobblestones and onto the soft forest floor the pocket knife seemed to bounce, like it was demanding attention and to be held.

She stopped walking only a few feet into the woods, listening to the silence around her. It was like the world ended here, nothing more than a grey fog, like everything was sealed in a big envelope. Taking a deep breath and relaxing, she dropping the corners of her dress and let her hands fall.

Lily's hand brushed against the knife.

Pulling out the worn knife, Lily flipped it open, holding it gingerly and turning it over. The sound of the knife popping open was familiar, associated with boxes of new merchandise and the stuck register drawer.

* * *

 

Matthew knocked the wooden soldiers’ head off in his sleep, sending it bouncing against the window with a flick of his hand. As it fell, Alfred swiped at his shoulder, a damp red spot blooming into his shirt.

 

* * *

 

Lily stopped in her tracks. She’d been lost in thought, flicking the blade absent-mindedly open in close. She stopped only when she walked on something clearly not dirt, her foot sinking into the mucky ground.

Taking a step back, she peered down. Under her shoe was a now-crushed Mushroom, a gross mixture of bright red and white fungus. She’d only crushed the one, but  was surrounded by a mass of Mushrooms spanning the entire walkway for at least five feet.

"What?" She whispered, squatting down and slipping her knife into the dress pocket.

Hundreds of Mushrooms, all with the same red caps and white spots. They grew unevenly spaced but in a solid line, across the path in front of her and over the fallen logs to the trail side. They looped around trees and under bushes, in a set line that curved outside of Lily’s field of vision.

"Do they go on forever?" Lily asked the air around her. It didn’t respond, and Lily became very aware of just how quiet it was around her.

She glanced around her, looking for anything on the ground around her or alive in the trees. Something, anything moving nearby to reassure her. Nothing; Silence boomed around her, echoing in her ears. No birds, no wind, no sounds of small animals scurrying about. Just eerie silence and her own breathing.

In a matter of seconds the fog had gone from a comforting presence to an empty blank void all around her. Beyond the Mushrooms there was blankness, the settled fog obscuring anything past  the trees.

Lily stood back up and kicked the Mushroom off her shoe. Her pocketknife, which previously seemed to weigh nearly a ton, was virtually weightless now as Lily pulled it back out and clutched onto it. She stood there for a minute, the mist and fog swirling before she turned around sprinted back down the trail, closed knife in one hand and skirt bundled in the other. Past logs overgrown with moss and puddles filled with fallen leaves.

She screamed when a tree root caught her foot and she smashed into the ground, head banging against hard dirt. The pocket knife flew out of her hand and landed just out of reach. Hot tears stung her eyes as she shakily regained her composure, trying to brush the dirt and sticks from her palms.

Still, nothing moved in the foliage around her. She was alone in the forest, shaken and mouth full of blood from biting down on her cheek. Pain rang in her head as she crawled to the knife, struggling to stand after she clutched it to her chest. She was terrified of looking behind her and did her best to crawl as fast as she could before finally managing to walk on both legs.

Her windbreaker swished furiously as she limped, her ankle stinging and dress dragging in the mud behind her as she abandoned the cobblestone path and made a beeline for the store.

She didn't  look back until she was surrounded by the Alyssum flowers again. But the smell of them made her feel sick.

 

* * *

 

_“Why do you even want me to do this, Matthew?”_

 

_“...”_

 

 _“Please answer me, Canada.”_  



End file.
